


Touch Yourself

by marrieddorks



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Begging, Implied D/s, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:10:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6051130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marrieddorks/pseuds/marrieddorks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Touch yourself,” Jared spoke again and Jensen’s eyes flicked up nervously. “But only over your clothes,” Jared clarified. He, too, got more comfortable, legs widening even more obscenely than before and Jensen didn’t know how he failed to realize he had been half-hard for some time already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to improve my smut writing and the only way to do that is to actually write it and not write one sentence then get embarrassed. So here I am.

“You can take your shirt off,” Jared’s voice sounded from across the room. Jensen looked up to find him sprawled in the chair, mile-long-legs explicitly drawing attention to the slimness of his legs in contrast to the beginnings of the bulge between them. As Jensen let his eyes wander up, he watched as Jared’s chest moved up and down rhythmically and slowly, his breathing deep and too-controlled. His shoulders, broad especially in relation to trim waist and knife-sharp hipbones (Jensen loved leaving marks all over those hipbones – they were even prettier when marked with his teeth and the rush blood blossoming to the surface of the tanned skin), were straining against the t-shirt he wore and it was truly obscene. It was almost as obscene of those pursed cotton candy-pink lips, hiding that kitten tongue and fairy teeth. It was almost as obscene as his fox eyes, dark and predatory and pure liquid amber. 

“Take your shirt off now,” Jared’s voice sounded again, this time demanding, its growl making Jensen hiss quietly between clenched teeth. Wordlessly he reached down, callused fingers finding the hem of his white t-shirt, and tugging it over his head, mussing his hair even further. Just briefly he felt self-conscience; he was on the floor sitting against the bed and he could see where his stomach rolled. It was nerve-wracking, truly, especially knowing that underneath that straining t-shirt of his own, Jared was defined, all firm delicious miles of honeyed skin. He didn’t have time to dwell on that, though. Jared was speaking again. 

“I suggest you get comfortable. If you don’t, this won’t be any fun,” he whispered. There was a teasing tone to his voice, but Jensen knew he was very serious. And, with Jensen’s stiff back and even stiffer arms and legs, he was also very right. Jensen took in a breath, hoping Jared didn’t notice its shuddering quality, and allowed the tension to drain from his body. It made him sink against the bed a little more, his arms fall limp to his sides, and his legs spread ever so slightly. 

“Touch yourself,” Jared spoke again and Jensen’s eyes flicked up nervously. “But only over your clothes,” Jared clarified. He, too, got more comfortable, legs widening even more obscenely than before and Jensen didn’t know how he failed to realize he had been half-hard for some time already. 

Forcing his limp right hand to move took far less effort than he thought it would and too soon he was closing his eyes, losing himself in the sensation. His hand moved tautly at first, awkward against the polyester exterior of his workout pants, but soon he found that familiar rhythm. He palmed at his hardening length, breaths deeper and deeper with each stroke until that first moan escaped, unexpected. The inside of his boxers were already getting damp in the front, precome leaking from his length and he stifled a groan, knowing he had only just begun. 

“Move your hand inside your pants, but don’t go past your boxers,” Jared said, shattering the tension with his words. Jensen moaned just at the thought, yet obeyed. He moved his hand up and allowed it to slip beneath the waistband. Hesitantly, he stole a look at Jared and immediately regretted such a decision for he, too, was palming his cock through his jeans, the prominent line of its length indecent and gorgeous and god, what would Jensen give to crawl over there and beg for it as prettily as Jared commanded.

With that view he allowed his fingers to curl around his own cock, still in the confines of his boxers. The boxers themselves were sticky and hot and he was itching to shed everything off and away from his flushed body. He gasped as he twisted his hand slightly, fingers grazing the sensitive spot just under the head and he arched against the bed, hips pushing out to seek friction. He did it again, this time prepared. A litany of moans fell out of his mouth and underneath them and the rushing of blood in his ears he heard more moans that he knew by heart, for they were engraved in his very being since the first time he was blessed with hearing them. 

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Jared breathed and Jensen heard the sound of a zipper. “God, look at your hips. They would be so pretty with my fingerprints on them.” 

Jensen’s hips rutted upwards at the thought and, with shallow breaths and a rough voice he managed to say, “Then come over here and put them there.” 

“Not yet,” Jared shushed him. “Not until we’re done. Now, grab the lube from the nightstand.”

Jensen whined, uncurling his fingers from where they were fitted to the shape of his cock, but he obeyed once again, fingers trembling as they fumbled for the plastic tube. He could feel his thighs beginning to shake and he moaned helplessly, catching the fleeting glimpses of Jared’s smirk. 

“Only one finger, Jensen,” Jared said, this time the teasing evident in his tone for exactly what it was supposed to be. With practiced ease, Jensen squeezed out enough to coat three of his fingers and, with Jared’s nod of approval, he lifted up the waistband of his boxers and began to move his hand downward. He hissed as the edge of one finger grazed the sensitive, too-soft, and too-smooth skin of his balls before moving behind them. His middle finger, wet and rough, circled his puckered entrance and he felt his entire body lurch, shivers racing up his spine and down his arms.

“Ease it in there,” Jared coached and, for the first time that night, he sounded flustered. Jensen teased himself, finger skirting around the rim before dipping in, but never even to the first knuckle. After a minute of this he felt his cock begin to ache and his left hand started to move from its unused position next to him up and down until – 

“No,” Jared cut sharply and Jensen stopped, a whimper clawing its way out his throat. “Put in another finger, but don’t you dare move anything else.” 

“But –“ 

“Do it.” 

“Jay, please,” he begged, pointer finger already doing its best to fit next to his middle one. The moment they both sunk in he gasped, eyes wide at the ceiling, and they began to move on their own accord. He could feel ever push, every second of stretching and burning and it wasn’t full enough, he needed more. “Can I put in another one?” he pleaded. His legs were trying to spread more, hoping to allow his fingers in even deeper, but with his pants still on he could only do so much. He awaited an answer, fingers pumping harder and harder with each thrust as the silent seconds ticked by. “Jared, please,” he tried again and he was too caught up in everything, too aroused, too desperate, to care about the break in his voice. 

He forced his eyes to open, head coming up from where it rested against the mattress, and Jared’s cock was out of his pants. His fingers, long and lithe and perfectly made to curl just right inside Jensen, were dancing up and down the length. Those fox-eyes were lidded and his free hand moved sweaty hair from his face before sliding down to his pectorals. He rolled one of his already pebbled nipples between his fingertips and his hand picked up pace around his cock. 

Jensen kept his eyes open, lids fluttering yet determined to watch for it was always his favorite show, and he slipped in a third finger the exact moment Jared twisted his hand expertly around the leaking head and they both choked out moans. 

“Jared, ‘m so close,” Jensen whispered. His thighs were trembling, his voice was breathy and wrecked, and the corner of Jared’s sinning mouth quirked up at the sound just as his cock did.

“Do it, baby. Show me how pretty you are when you come on just your fingers.” 

So he did. He felt that heat that had pooled to the pit of his stomach course through his very veins to the core of his being and he was certain he cried out, though he couldn’t hear with the blood rushing in his ears. His cry was cut off by Jared’s mouth claiming his, teeth clashing and lips melding in a way that was both incredibly sloppy and perfect all at once. Jared’s come, hot and thick, painted the skin of his torso, dripping down to mix with his own which had gotten all over the waistband of his pants and boxers and the smooth skin of his stomach. 

Jared sunk to the ground, legs bracketing Jensen’s own, and continued to kiss him possessively until Jensen thought he was going to pass-out. When they finally separated, Jared’s sticky hand tight around Jensen’s bicep and Jensen’s hand still in his pants, they were heaving in-time with one another. Jared looked down with those still-lidded eyes to take in the sight of his come on Jensen’s skin. Reverently, he brought his hand down, thumb swiping through the mess before lifting it to Jensen’s blood-rushed lips. 

“And to think we’re just getting started,” Jared teased, still breathless. Jensen’s tongue delicately lapped out of his mouth, pink and hot against Jared’s thumb, and he couldn’t stop the grin as he saw Jared’s breathing hitch. He cleaned off the digit diligently, nibbling on tip, before pulling Jared down into a claiming kiss of his own. 

“Then what are you waiting for?”


End file.
